


Relationship Resolved

by HandwithQuill



Series: Resolved series [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandwithQuill/pseuds/HandwithQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Repeatinglitanies prompt: “A fic where after Rumple and Belle make love the first time, Rumple regrets it thinking that making love to Belle would eventually ruin her. He makes a promise to himself every morning that it would be the last time. But then Belle has other ideas. So Rumple breaks his promise every night only to promise himself again that it would be the last time. And the cycle continues…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relationship Resolved

**Author's Note:**

> I made this a sequel to my fic Restlessness Resolved. I don't think you have to read it to understand it, but, um.......please?

The sky outside the window of the Dark Castle had slowly turned from black to gray and was now approaching blue as the sun rose. Rumpelstiltskin lay in the middle of the bed, wide awake. Part of him was content and sleepy, having gotten that way from the naked form pressed against his side. He glanced down at Belle as she nuzzled closer in her sleep. They had been growing closer for the last few months, and when she had come down to the Great Hall last night while he was spinning-spinning to clear his mind of her-he had been unable to not go with her when she invited him to come to bed. 

Last night had been amazing as they learned each other through touch. And he had fallen into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a long time. But he had awoken a few hours ago and hadn't been able to turn off his mind. And he realized that no matter how amazing it was, it was also a mistake. No matter what he had said in his deal with her, he never intended to keep her with him forever. In a few months or a year or so, he intended to let her go back to her village and family. And now she couldn't. Well, she could, but they would see here as tainted, ruined by what they did last night. At the least, she would never be able to marry, at worst, they might try to 'cleanse' her of him. 

With great regret, he eased out from her hold and left the bed. A wave of his hand and he was dressed. He left her room before his resolve that this could never happen again failed him. He retreated to his tower and his wheel there. He didn't know how long it was until there was a knock at the door, it opened and Belle walked in with a tray. A teapot and two breakfast plates upon it. She smiled at him and before he could stop himself, he smiled back. She set the tray down and came over to him. He was startled when she sat in his lap and cup his face, thumb rubbing along she cheekbone. 

“You were gone when I awoke, couldn't you sleep?”

He opened his mouth to tell her, explain to her that it couldn't happen again, when her hands went up into his hair and she started to massage his scalp lightly with her fingernails. His eyes drooped and he leaned back into her hands. Before he knew what happened, breakfast was consumes and Belle pecked him on the mouth before whisking the tray away. He blinked and determined to tell her at dinner. 

Like the coward he was, he didn't tell her at dinner, nor anytime after while they sat in the Great Hall. She retired before him, telling him not to be long. She left the hall with a backward glance and a smile on her lips. He swallowed. He finished his basket of straw, hoping she would be asleep by the time he was done, but he could tell she was still awake when he passed her door. She was waiting for him, so he couldn't just leave. He squared his shoulders and nodded his head. He'd tell her and that was that. 

Somehow _that_ turned into her lips against his, her hands against his chest as she divested him of his shirt, his heart pounding under her hand. He brought his hands up and clasped hers. He opened his mouth but when he looked at her, his breath caught in his throat. She was looking at his from the tops of her eyes and her lips were quirked knowingly. He swallowed as his resolve crumpled and he reached for her. 

The next morning, his eyes only fluttered open when the sun was already up. When the sleep cleared, he saw Belle was propped up on her elbow with her head in her hand watching him. 

“Morning,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him quickly before rolling out of bed. He sat up and watched her as she stood at the basin and quickly washed herself, telling himself that it was the last time he would see her like this. She kept up a continuous chatter as she finished and dressed. She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. He returned the look and waved a hand, and was clean, dressed and standing next to her. She just shook her head at him and grabbed his hand to pull him to the kitchen so she could make breakfast. 

He had to tell her that this thing between them was a mistake that she would regret, but as she smiled at him, he couldn't take away her happiness right now. Later, when she wasn't glowing so much, he would tell her.

But she glowed all day, lighting up every nook and cranny of his castle and life. Making him feel things he hadn't felt in centuries. That is what he blamed on being back in her bed that night. 

The next morning he yet again told himself that it needed to end. He kissed her forehead as he slipped out of bed. 

She gave him a strange look when she came into the Hall later. He had his speech ready and facts to counter all her augments, but as he opened his mouth a bird flew in the window with a scroll. He read it and reconsider his approach. The deal proposed in the scroll would take a couple days to finish. If he stayed away during the whole of it, giving her time to herself, she might see what a mistake they were on her own. He nodded and told her about the deal.

“Oh,” she said, “Do you know how long you'll be gone.”

“Just a few days, I'm sure you can manage to stay out of trouble for that long.” She smiled at him.

“When will you leave?”

“Well,” he said, as she stepped closer and took his hand in hers, “They say no time like the present.” She nodded and interlaced their fingers. 

“Be careful, Rumple,” she said, reaching up to tuck a few strand of hair behind his ear. He nodded and stepped away, calling his magic and disappeared. 

** ** ** 

A week later Rumpelstiltskin wearily made his way back to the Dark Castle. He stopped next to the table in the entrance hall, he set the urn that was the price of the last deal on the table, and removed his cape. He was exhausted, having slept badly the entire week. The fitful bouts he did get were interrupter when he would reach out for something-someone-causing him get up and restlessly pace. 

He was tired and all he wanted was Belle. Her smile, her laugh, her hands in his hair and a playful glint in her eyes as they met his. He wanted her scent to envelope him as he nuzzled her hair, her neck, leaving licks and kisses behind. But more then that, more then having her wrapped up in his arms, he wanted the rest of her. He wanted her light, the little flicker of light that she was in his life and he wanted it to expand. Expand so wide it lit up his castle, his life, his deals and his....his...

He placed both hands on the table, leaned forwards so that his hair covered his face as she squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressed thin, even as his breath became ragged. He fights it. Swallows harshly to keep from saying it, pulls up random memories from his very long life to keep from ever think it. But he knows it's impossible, knows that not thinking or saying it doesn't mean that it already hasn't happened. That her light isn't already ensconced in his heart, that deep inside the blackness there is a tiny flicker, tiny sparks of warmth. And that light, that fire, that passion, instead of turning that blacken husk to dust, is rejuvenating it. Sending veins of red spiraling outward. 

He loves her.

With a growl he pushed off of the table, the urn making a clank as it fell to the floor. With a wave, he sent it to the vault, to be dealt with later. Whatever is within is nowhere near important. Because he loves her. He can't, shouldn't, because he wants her, needs her present in his life. And the one thing he knows for certain, the one thing that his long life has taught him, is that if he love someone, he loses them. 

Their time is running out. Or over already. Isn't that why he left in the fist place? To show her with his absents that he wasn't want she wanted?

He imagines it now, when he leaves the entrance hall to go find her in the Great Hall, the kitchen, her library, she'll look up at him, a blush on her cheeks and her eyes will drop. This blush, though, won't in fond remembrance of the nights they spent together, but in regret, in hesitation on how to tell him it won't happen again. 

He holds this image in his mind for five full minutes, letting it wash over him, feel the ice in his veins as he comes up the the best ways to reassure her that he understands, that he will never press her, thinking of way to dispel the tension that will have formed, to make her smile again. 

He briefly thinks of letting her go, but he physically shutters at the pain. It's too soon, he tells himself. She's not ready yet. She wants to see the world, but she's unprepared for the dangers of travel. 

That's what he will do, to help him prepare for the loss, he will prepare her for her dreams. 

He nods, various plans filling his head as he leaves the entrance hall. He checks the Great Hall, the kitchen, her bedroom, but like he already knew, he finds her in her library. Reclined on a chaise, stack of book with in easy reach, the setting sun a glow around her. 

He doesn't make a sound, but he knows the moment she notices she's not alone. She moves her head towards him and he prepares, but it doesn't help. Because he didn't prepare for her eyes to alight with joy and a smile to stretch across her lips. 

“Rumple!” She marks her place, and puts the book down. “When did you get back.” She stands and starts towards him. “I'm glad you're back.” He doesn't remember taking the steps to meet her in the middle, but he must have. She takes one of his hands, looks up at his through her eyelashes, shyly. “I missed you.”

His mouth opens to tell her.....tell her.....he doesn't even know. What he does know is that he rips his hand out of her and wraps it around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other sinks into her hair, pulling pins out, then tilting her head as he kisses her. Hungrily, passionately kisses her. She lets out a small 'eep' before throwing her arms around his neck and retuning the kiss. 

He picked her up and placed her on a table, “Belle,” he whispered against her lips, moving his hands to cup her face. “Belle,” He kissed her lips one more time, then her nose, each eye, cheekbones, placing butterfly kisses all over before coming back to rest his forehead against her's “Belle,” He caressed the side of her nose with his own. “Belle.”

“Rumple,” Her hand was in his hair at his nape, kneading. She pulls him forward, their lips meeting again, “Missed you,” she whispers against them. “Missed you so much.” 

He groans, moves his hands down her shoulders, sides, to her legs, which he encouraged her to wrap around his waist. When she's clinging to him, he moves them to her bedroom. 

Later, both still gasping for breath, he rolls them to lay face to face, sharing a pillow. She reaches out to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear. He catches her hand, nuzzles it for a moment and finds her eyes as he places a kiss in her palm. 

“I love you.” She stills and he starts to worry, but a cautious smile appears on her face.

“Does that mean, you've stopped fighting it? Stopped fighting us?”

He starts to speak, then stops because, of course she already knew. She could read him so clearly, could from nearly the moment they met. He shakes his head, then meets her eyes again. 

“I'm sorry, Sweetheart.” 

“It's okay,” she says, moving to press herself against him, curling their legs together and burrowing under his chin. “You needed to work it out yourself. It didn't take as long as I thought it might, though,”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He could hear the humor in her voice. “You've a bit slow sometimes.”

“Slow?”

“Yes,” she said, moving again and resting her chin on his chest. “I bet you still haven't realized that I love you as well.”

Her chin jerked as he inhaled quickly, jaw falling open.

“See.” She reached out with a finger and closed his mouth “Slow. But,” she leaned forward and over him. “I love you anyway.”

He reached for her, she reached for him and they showed each other their love.


End file.
